Battleship
by Breehia
Summary: When America invites Canada and the Nordics over for a videogame tournament, Matthew and Emil sneak away to go somewhere quieter and end up playing Battleship. Little did they know that they'd be whisked into a world of true life and death, where there are a thousand troops at their command to destroy each other...
1. It's All Mr Puffin's Fault!

_This is first story on here, so I'd highly appreciate reviews. Obviously, I own nothing. If I did, I wouldn't be writing this, now would I?_

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When America had invited the Nordics over for an 'awesome videogame tournament', Matthew could predict exactly how the evening would go. Still, he at least hoped that he and the youngest Nordic might hit it off.

He was sorely disappointed when he and Iceland were safely in one of the back rooms though, both quiet voices a little unsure of what to say as they listened to Alfred's whoops of excitement and Denmark's scowls while the rest egged them both on in a multitude of languages.

It was Canada who finally spoke first, hesitantly looking up at Emil as he hugged Kumajirou to his chest. Usually, Alfred would begin rambling on about whatever topic came to mind, but Iceland seemed quite like him and truthfully, Matthew didn't know how much longer he would be able to stand the silence and awkwardness of standing around and listening to their brothers.

 _"Whooo! The hero wins again!"_

Both boys jumped at America's shout of victory and Mr. Puffin shifted, angrily squawking in what seemed to be Icelandic. Emil nodded to him and Matthew swore that he could see the bird's eyes roll.

"So..." Matthew tried again, soft voice barely above a whisper. "What did your bird say-eh?" He missed Kumajirou look at him like he was mad for not understanding it as Iceland responded.

"That... that your brother and Denmark would get along well," Emil responded, voice surprising Matthew when it was louder than his own, even if only slightly.

The awkwardness persisted and Matthew rubbed the back of his neck as Kumajirou squirmed a bit, unhappy at being held like a stuffed animal. "You're hurting me, Canada," he complained and, once Matthew snapped out of his daze, he shifted him into a more comfortable position.

"What did he say? I don't speak French."

Matthew blinked in surprise as Emil spoke again. "He just wanted me to move him-eh," he admitted, lifting a hand to push his sliding glasses back up. He hadn't realised that Kumajirou couldn't be understood by the others. Sure, he knew that he spoke French-Canadian, but Matthew hadn't put two and two together before. Maybe that was why France always huffed when the bear spoke...

"Erm... shall we do something? It'll be hours before Alfred wants to take a break-eh," he tried to explain, and, once Iceland nodded, he set Kumajirou down and went over to dig through a heavily disorganised shelf until he found Scrabble and pulled it out, trying his very best to not make the tower of board games fall on him.

He unpacked the game in silence and soon the two were lounging on the dusty carpet, Kumajirou and Mr. Puffin looking at both sides.

"Wait... skjal?" Matthew's voice clumsily formed around the word, breaking the long silence. "English only-eh."

Emil seemed flabbergasted by this. "Really? That's a rule? Alright, I suppose."

Mr. Puffin had had, of course, had a different approach to this and exploded at Matthew in a mess of hardly understandable Icelandic- even for Emil. The bird got so angry, in fact, that he knocked the board over and tore it apart with his beak, squawking harsh words that Canada wasn't sure that he wanted to know the meaning of.

After a shocked moment, Kumajirou tackled the bird and held him down with his two front paws with the nations cleaned up the mess that he had made.

They disregarded Scrabble after that and pulled out Battleship. Usually, Matthew would have been hesitant to play a war game -Risk with Germany had been quite frightening- but Emil seemed to have a good control over his temper, not like Romano. He remembered the day that he had accidentally introduced the European countries to Risk, how Russia was silent through the entire thing, how Italy refused to roll in defense, how Romano and Germany got worked up over taking control of Europe, and how Russia went into a rage when he lost his country in the game to Lithuania and how, when none of them were watching closely, Latvia won.

Iceland seemed quite level-headed though, so Matthew handed one of the game sets to him and set the other one up.

And the moment that Canada called for the first move, _E5_ , was when they were sent into the game.


	2. Iceland: Of Rocks and Rain

_So I just have to say, if you'd like an appearance or mention of your favourite country, leave a comment, and I'll see what I can do to put them in there :) The next chapter will be focused on Canada, so sorry for all you lovers of Matthew in this one._

* * *

 _"COME ON, BOYS! LET'S GO, LET'S GO!"_

Emil blinked in surprise as what felt like icy pins pricked his face, drenching him quickly.

 _"SIR! YOU SHOULD GET BACK BELOW DECK!"_

The man who towered above him, seeming a whole lot like Prussia, had to yell to be heard above the wind and -oh. It was rain, Emil realised. He barely had time to register anything before they were pelted with... rocks? They came down from the sky like little cannonballs though, hitting one of the small Seabees hard enough to knock him down and create a dent in his skull.

 _"THEY'RE HERE! TAKE COVER!"_

The platinum-blond man all-but screamed at the sailors, grabbing Emil around the middle and throwing him through an open door. He hit his head, but scrambled back up all the same, wide-eyed as the chaos persisted. _What was happening!?_

 _"General Steilsson, Sir! You need to get below deck!"_ Emil snapped back to reality when an officer shouted at him over the roar of ...everything... and held open a hatch on the floor that lead to a ladder. Just seeing how far down it frightened him, but he closed his eyes and began the decent.

What had happened? Matthew had called for E5, not turned into England and cast a spell over them to take them into- wait. Emil recalled Denmark joking that America had cursed board games from Arthur, but that had been a joke... right?

 _"Sir!"_

Another officer saluted him when he made it down to what seemed to be the headquarters of the ship, and Emil automatically saluted him back feeling himself go into 'war mode'.

 _"The middle of the ocean is proving to be a bad choice to place the carrier!"_

The boat rocked once more and Emil held tightly onto a pole above his head to keep from falling, as did all of the other officers. He just... had to fake this until he could find Matthew and they could get to land, where they'd sort it out. But... where _was_ Matthew...?

 _"Sir! How did General Williams know where we were?"_ Another officer fired the question at him and Emil's eyes jumped to the name sewn on his jacket. Von Bock.

"...Eduard?" Emil couldn't believe it; Estonia was his best friend who wasn't a Nordic! He was here? That was... amazing.

But... Eduard didn't seem to recognise him. _"Yes... Sir...?"_ He seemed confused, but quickly went back to questioning him. _"Weren't the Canadians supposed to be neutral, Sir?"_

Emil wasn't sure what he stuttered out eventually, but it seemed to satisfy Eduard, who nodded and looked up as the hatch opened again and the Seabees came down to avoid the fire of rocks.

 _"Eduard! I got hit in the head!"_ A smaller Seabee, one who looked practically like a child, ran over to the officer and crushed him in a hug, blond hair completely drenched and shaking as the boy trembled.

 _"Raivis?"_ Emil was more than a little shocked. Weren't the Seabees supposed to be upwards of eighteen?

Eduard's eyes darkened slightly when he heard this. _"How do you know my brother?"_

Emil was fumbling for a response when another voice cut him off before he could even start. _"Eduard! Don't question the general!"_

 _General?_ Did the officer who looked suspiciously like Lithuania under the cap mean to say that he, Emil, was commanding the entire ship?

 _Or the fleet...?_

An odd feeling boiled up in him and he leaned against the wall, feeling hot all over despite the freezing cold. He knew where Matthew was.


	3. Canada: Of WWII and Spanish Jerks

_As promised, here's the Canada chapter! And thanks, Mai Sweet Devil, for the lovely review :) This chapter's going to nudge more into the T rating, mostly for France and Romano's suggestiveness. I don't write cursing at all, but rather like to skate around it, allowing your imagination fill the void. Anyway, enjoy!_

* * *

 _"E5."_ That was the last thing that Matthew had remembered saying before a cold rush of air enveloped him in darkness and he felt immediately dizzy as the world came back into view.

 _"Sir?"_

The Canadian blinked as the darkness faded from his vision and he found himself nodding.

 _"Are you quite alright?"_ The English accent was overwhelming, and Matthew rubbed his head. What _was_ that?

"I'll be fine-eh, England, thank you," he responded, blue eyes finally blinking at his sort-of father figure as whatever he was standing on rocked back and forth. The odd thing was though, Arthur gave him a startled look at the word 'England', and looked over Matthew's shoulder, as if searching for an escape route. A ship, Matthew realised. He was in the middle of the ocean.

 _"As I was saying, Sir, the rock-bombing was successful, brilliant idea,"_ England went on, seeming troubled still. _"From what the pilots said, the carrier was damaged. They estimate that it will take four to seven more rounds of this to completely demolish it. I must congratulate you, really. I was a bit hesita-"_

 _"Arthur! Moi ami! Don't go and bore the General to death with your flirting!"_ A French accent interjected easily, steamrolling Arthur's speech. Francis appeared in an officer's uniform similar to Arthur's with his long hair tied back and linked his arm through his, obviously to the Englishman's discomfort.

 _"Get off of me, you blundering idiot..."_ Arthur mumbled, turning a light red as Francis edged a little too close for comfort while dragging him away. Matthew could've sworn that he heard France say something about how England wouldn't be saying that that night, and, a loud smack and a bit of curses shot at the longer-haired man, England bolted off.

Matthew couldn't help but smile a bit, even though a word was bugging him. General. Arthur had had on a tan English uniform consistent with that of the Second World War, and Francis a French one, but he couldn't for the life of him unravel why he would have been transported back in time, and why Arthur wouldn't recognise him.

 _"That idiotic Icelandic freak!"_

 _"Brother! Don't speak that loud! The General might hear you!"_

 _"Well, 'that General' can go straight to h-"_

 _"Brother!"_

Matthew smiled again, hearing the voices of Romano and Feliciano. Even if Romano was being rather unpleasant, he still was thrilled to hear more familiar voices.

Another voice joined in, which he immediately placed as Spain's. _"Little Romano, don't speak of the General like that, or you can't have any tomatoes when we get back home!"_

 _"Leave me alone, you jerk-bas-"_

 _"Brother!"_

Matthew couldn't help but peek behind the board that was separating him from the voices as Feliciano wailed and found the three staring at an almost-empty board that looked suspiciously similar to the Battleship board. Feliciano noticed him first and, once he did, he poked Romano's nose and pointed.

 _"Oh! General, Sir,"_ Romano straightened up instantly with a salute, to which Canada nodded, a little unsure of exactly the right way to salute and he really didn't want to get it wrong.

"What have you three found-eh?" Matthew decided that if he played along with whatever was happening, he might be able to figure out more. At least these people actually knew who he was now, actually remembered him.

 _"That the Icelandic ba-"_ Romano was cut off by a squeal from Feliciano and a jab in the side form Spain's elbow.

 _"That General Steilsson either has a very intricate layout of ships, or he's randomly placed them,"_ Antonio told him, taking Romano's head in one hand, covering his mouth in the other, and missing Matthew's gasp of surprise as it was layered over by Romano growling at Spain, a muffled line of angry insults being streamed from the Italian's mouth as Feliciano cowered wide-eyed and tried to explain the board to Matthew.

 _"We've set up this section of the wall with these cute little pegs! And five pegs is the huge carrier, four is the battleship, three is the submarine and the cruiser, and two is the destroyer! See?! I did our fleet too! Isn't it amazing?!"_

Matthew's eyes grew larger as Feliciano bounced around, pointing things out. The second board that Feliciano had set up was an exact replica of the board that he had done back in Alfred's mansion. Wait... Hadn't America once said that Arthur had cursed old board games in a rage? But... he had always thought that he was exaggerating. Surely that was it... right?

He had to talk to Emil.

"Carriedo," he addressed Spain, as the tallest Romantic country seemed the most reliable. "Is there any way that I can talk to General Steilsson-eh? Perhaps get him to withdraw?"

Antonio seemed hesitant, but nodded. _"We can telephone back to Canada and they can contact Iceland, perhaps get you two on a neutral ship. But is right now really the best time for negotiations, Sir?"_

Canada tried to give him a steely look, but it didn't go very well. "Just do it, Carriedo-eh."

As the Spaniard nodded and fled off to an office, Matthew rubbed his temples and looked up at Feliciano. "Vargas, could you help me back to my-eh quarters? This boat is making me feel-eh rather ill." It wasn't a complete lie, but not the complete truth either. Yes, the boat was making him a bit ill, but not nearly enough to want to go back. He really wanted to go back to be able to process everything and think it all through.

 _"Okay!"_ Feliciano was compliant enough and, as he bounced forward, Matthew finally realised his uniform. He was... a Seabee? Of course, Matthew didn't dream of pointing this out, that he was supposed to be above the deck. Then again, he didn't realise that the Italians had Seabees. Maybe they did. Or maybe this was an odd parallel universe. Yes, that could be it. _He had to get to Emil._


	4. Iceland: Of Math and Idiot Americans

As Emil gathered himself, he breathed in and out slowly. Who would have known that letting himself get dragged to America's house would end in dying on a ship in the middle of nowhere, in a war against Canada because Arthur still had a grudge?

 _Gather yourself, soldier!_ He told himself sharply, allowing himself a final slow exhale before he opened his eyes on an expectant Lithuania. "How much damage was done to the ship?" He asked him, looking from him to Prussia.

 _"About twenty percent is gone, from what I saw while I was up there. I've already sent up some men to calculate exactly how much was done,"_ Prussia eventually told him, glancing towards a nodding Toris. Emil couldn't help glanced at Eduard though, who seemed to be talking quietly with Raivis as they pored over a section of the wall. Finland had always gone on and on about how great of friends that he and Estonia were, but Emil hadn't told Tino that he was friends with the Baltic as well. Emil quite liked him- he was quiet like him, and smart too.

 _Enough,_ he told himself again, and accept the numbers with a curt nod, his mind immediately piecing together that it was twenty percent because the carrier, the ship that he was on, was worth five points in the game and Matthew had called on the middle of the ship. He hadn't really been thinking when he placed his ships- he had just wanted to pass time. But now? Now he wished that he would have listened to Lukas insisting that he always be on guard. Sure, his big brother could be irritating, but he was often right, even if Emil would never admit it out loud.

After a silent moment, he went behind Eduard and Raivis, watching them plan out what seemed to be a map. "What's this?" He asked quietly, startling Latvia terribly.

 _"I-I-It's n-nothing, General, Sir!"_ He squeaked out, shaking so much that Emil couldn't tell if it was from being all wet and cold, or just because he always trembled.

 _"It's just a map, Sir,"_ Eduard told him smoothly, resting a protective hand on Raivis' shoulder. _"We've set up the position of our ships and have made a few guesses as to where General Williams has placed his. Nothing too extravagant."_

Emil's violet eyes widened a bit at the board. It was an exact copy of where he had placed his own back in America's house. This really _was_ Battleship come to li-

 _"-Hey guys!"_ A cheery, obnoxious American accent greeted them. _"We're done calculating the damage! It's exactly twenty percent! How weird is that!?"_ In the previously somber atmosphere, his tone threw everyone off and they merely looked at him for a moment before they went back to what they were doing. Emil could have sworn that he heard an, _"Idiot Amerikaner..."_ from Prussia, but when he looked the man's way, the German was looking down at a table that had papers spread out all over it.

But instead of being happy that his theory was confirmed, Emil rounded on Alfred. _"Þetta er allt vegna þín, Ameríku! Kanada og ég var bara fínt þar til við fundum hlutina þína! Afhverju gatstu ekki bara verið með Englandi?!"_ He nearly exploded at him, finally breaking out of being calm. _Mr. Puffin would be pround,_ he reasoned as Prussia held him back.

 _"Come on, Sir. Why don't you go lay down for a moment?"_ He heard Gilbert's voice trying to calm him back down, and he let it. He didn't like feeling like a different person, one who was angry all of the time. That was Germany's trademark, not his.

"Thank you, Officer..." He settled for calling Prussia, a bitt better once they were out in the corridor with the slightly taller man escorting him to his room. At least he'd be able to get to his quarters without looking like an idiot...


	5. Canada: Of a Head Injury and Russians

_So most of the chapters around going to be around five hundred words each, unless I suddenly have a lot of time on my hands, which is... never. Enjoy!_

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Back in his quarters, Matthew was horizontal on his bed, eyes closed and hands on his head. If this was really the game that Arthur had cursed with his fairy-magic, then it would theoretically be Emil's turn next. But what were they to do? They couldn't very well go and play the game how they were supposed to and risk lives. But... they couldn't call off this war either. That would raise too much suspicion and, if Matthew was correct, the governments wouldn't agree anyway.

Matthew rolled onto his side and opened his eyes, sighing to himself and staring at the wall, where a corkboard and pins were hanging. He stayed like that for hours, unsure what else to do but wait, until a loud knock at his door made him jump out of his doze and stand up.

"Enter," he called, soft-spoken voice barely drifting through the wooden door.

The handle turned to reveal Russia looming with a salute before he entered. Matthew returned it, trying his best to not shake _You're in charge here, General,_ he reminded himself, trying his best to not cower in the mere presence of the huge nation.

 _"Sir, General Steilsson is on the line waiting for you,"_ Russia told him, nodding to the telephone on the wall.

"Thank you-eh," Matthew responded, and, once Ivan left, grabbed the telephone from the wall and put it to his ear, covering the mouthpiece as he listened.

 _"General Williams?"_ Iceland's voice cane through hesitant, as if he wasn't sure if it was working, or if other people could hear him. Someone was probably listening to the call, so Matthew held himself back from breaking.

"Yes. General Steilsson, would you be open to a compromise? Perhaps we can-eh work out a solution without having to completely destroy each other-eh?" The phrase sounded innocent enough, but Emil seemed to realise the hidden meaning behind it.

 _"No. We Can't. This is the only way."_

Matthew knew exactly what he meant. The rules of Battleship specifically stated that the game was over when one side's ships were completely sunk. The other player could surrender to end it; it didn't work that way.

"We need to meet face-to-face-eh," Matthew told him after a long moment.

 _"I agree."_

"For now-eh, I'm just going to say that if anyone ever puts their ships in the middle of the board, that person must be as smart as my brother-eh." Matthew was trying to tell Emil where it was safe to attack, where his ships wouldn't be without it being obvious to whoever was listening in.

A long silence followed, but eventually he heard an exhale and something move, perhaps a nod of the head. _"I understand,"_ Emil told him. _"I hope that you're prepared."_

He understood! Matthew was nearly overjoyed by this and couldn't stop a smile. "Likewise, Sir-eh," he told him, and set the telephone back on its hook on the wall, and promptly went over to the corkboard and began setting up what he knew of Emil's ships, which unfortunately wasn't much.

He sighed and let himself fall back onto the bed wearily... and promptly hit his head on the wall. Well, at least now he'd find out if he still had the same super-healing powers that being a nation gave him...


End file.
